


Never Give Up

by pjomuffins



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/F, Gen, angst lol, enjoy k thanks, secret santa bt, w - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:11:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9152959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pjomuffins/pseuds/pjomuffins
Summary: so basically this is a song fic to Sia's Never Give Up and it's like Clarisse's life throughout the years u feel alright // i reccomend you listen to the actual song before u read





	

_I’ve battled demons that won’t let me sleep_

She awoke in absolute horror, such utter fear that she was certain the dream must’ve still been going on. Clarisse could only hear the blood pounding in her ears, only feel her heart throbbing in her chest. She was shook, to say the least. She closed her eyes―only for a second―and all she could see was her father’s face. Yelling. Screaming. His fist in the air, coming down, so close to her face—She opened her eyes again. Her father, Ares, was an awful man. She hated him, oh did she hate him, but she feared him more. She had only met him once.  Her body was shaking, but other than that, it seemed like she was paralyzed. She couldn’t move her head, or her arms, or her legs, or her anything. _He must know,_ she thought, _he knows I’m scared of him. This must be a punishment._ The blood pounded louder, as did her heart, and then the tears started and, _oh my gods she had to stop this would alert her father it would only get worse it needs to stop. IT NEEDS TO STOP._ Her fear was so bad. She didn’t think she had ever been more afraid in her entire life. She stared ahead at the blank wall of the Ares cabin. Could her siblings hear her ragged breaths? Could her siblings hear her small sobs? Could her father hear? Could her father see? She stared ahead, adrenaline running through her veins, tears strolling down her face, questions on her mind, and her body hardly moving. That might have been the first of the more dreadful horrors of her life. She was nine. It would only go downhill from there.

_Called to the sea, but she abandoned me_

Clarisse stared into the Long Island Sound. She breathed in, though raggedly. She wanted to go home. Desperately. She wanted to see her mom, breathe in the scent of their cinnamon smelling home, sit next to her in front of the fireplace while the two of them played cards. Camp Half Blood was her home now, she supposed. She had been there for four years, now, and hadn’t visited her mother once. She was promised. The promise must have been broken. “I’ll see you in no time, this is just so you’re safer.” Her mother had told her. “Why, though? Can’t I just fight everything?” She had replied. _Can’t I just fight everything?_ Younger Clarisse was completely and utterly stupid. Of course she couldn’t. Clarisse could hardly fight the fear of her own father, hardly fight the tragic longing she felt every time she thought of Arizona. “I promise. I’ll see you soon.” Her mother told her. And then she was off, with Gleeson Hedge, with a life she had never asked for, never wanted. She continued looking at the waves as they rolled over the sand. A tear rolled down her cheek. She dragged her forearm across her face, wiping it away, and turned away from the water. She could hardly fight the tears that came every time she ached to return home. This was the second tragedy, though she couldn’t decide which one was worse. Fear so complete the body was paralyzed, or a sadness so strong words could hardly describe it? She was eleven. Her life was only filled with more ups and downs.

_But I won't never give up, no, never give up, no, no_

She looked in the mirror. Her wavy hair reached her elbows, it was longer than she had ever let it. It was the color of dirt. Her face, her arms, practically every inch of her skin and body was covered in scars and cuts and bruises. She breathed deeply. Clarisse doubted that if her mother were to see her now that she would recognize her. Her nose had gotten longer, but that was due to aging from the last time she really _looked_ in a mirror, and she thought she had gotten taller. What was it now? 5’8”? 5’9”? She was taller than a majority of her brothers and sisters, which occasionally had it’s advantages. She hated it, though. Did she really need the added height when everyone was already terrified of her? It only made her more intimidating.  Clarisse scanned her face. She never really thought she was particularly beautiful, and it really didn’t matter to her. Did you really need beauty if you were born and made for fighting? Then again, it was another factor as to why people disliked her. She had too many mixed feelings about her body. Her nose was now speckled with a couple of freckles from being in the sun all year around. Would she ever make it out of this place? Finally get to leave, maybe visit home? She didn’t know. Clarisse stared herself down in the mirror, tilting her head back ever so slightly so her chin was raised, and she put her shoulders back. Now she looked like a fighter. She would fight every damned thing that came her way. She would be seeing her mother again, she swore on it. She was twelve when this happened. It got a little better from there on out. Momentarily.  

_No, I won't never give up, no, never give up, no, no_

‘How much did she love Silena Beauregard?’ one may ask. “Love? As if,” Clarisse would reply. _More than words could describe,_ she would think. She was her first friend, her only friend. She was a light in the dark, a single candle in a pitch black room. She was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Silena Beauregard had soft hair and a soft voice and soft hands. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, sometimes roses or caramel. Clarisse could talk to her for ages and she could suddenly feel her voice getting lighter and her posture becoming more comfortable and could find her hands running through Silena’s hair more often than not. It was so out of character. It was so like Clarisse. She had never felt more in her own skin then when she was with Silena. Since their first meeting, when Silena had suddenly come to Camp Half Blood and had a sudden infatuation with the pegasi and was suddenly claimed by Aphrodite, the two of them were inseparable. It was amazing. Beautiful. The best thing that had ever happened to Clarisse. _Somebody isn’t afraid of me,_ She would think with a smile as she fell asleep. _Somebody doesn’t hate me._ The daughter of Ares thought she would never, could never, get enough of the daughter of Aphrodite. Every time she smiled her heart would burst and every time she laughed her heart would explode. She was like a star at the end of its life, Silena was. Beautiful. Overwhelming. _Too good to last_. Clarisse never wanted her out of her sight. She was twelve and a half when this happened. Her happiness was short lived.

_And I won't let you get me down, I'll keep gettin' up when I hit the ground_

She was on a mission, she supposed. Though, at this point, it seemed like a suicide run. She was in the labyrinth. Gods, it was horrific. It was dark. It was so _dark._ Sometimes positively silent, other times she thought she could hear screaming or her own footsteps just on a louder scale. Everywhere she stepped she felt like she was falling. Her stomach would rise and she would feel the need to shout, except she never could, because what if something heard her? Once she was out of here (if she ever got out), she would never return. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Every turn, there was something new. It was never good. Adrenaline never left her veins, the beginning of screams never left her throat. She had never been so filled with such raw fear. Her every step was calculated, if she took a wrong one it could be the end. Why her? Clarisse was alone. She had never been so _alone._ At camp, there was always the Stolls shouting obscenities or Silena giggling about a new crush she had. Here, though, there was nothing. Nobody. She breathed deeply, one of the only things she let herself do without thinking. Clarisse was going to get out. She was sure of it. The daughter of Ares cracked her knuckles, looking into the darkness around her. Yeah. She was totally getting out. Her age was thirteen when this happened.

_Oh, never give up, no, never give up no, no, oh_

She was going to puke. She hated her brothers. She hated her father. Phobos and Deimos—her immortal siblings—had no right to torment her. And yet there they were, taking a chariot she was supposed to get to her father’s temple by sundown. She could hardly imagine how her father would react if his chariot wasn’t received. She didn’t want to imagine it, actually. She knew exactly how he would react. That’s why there was a deep sickness in her stomach, why she wanted to cry and punch something at the same time. If she didn’t get the chariot to the temple soon, she didn’t even know if she would be alive at the end of the day. Clarisse slashed her sword at raven-type birds, blood dripping down her face and into her mouth. It tasted like iron. It only made her more sick. “Clarisse!” It was Percy Jackson. Of course it had to be Percy. As if the day couldn’t get any worse. It turned out though, that he was there to help her. The sickness in her stomach eased, if only a little bit. They had made it to the Staten Island Zoo. While Percy went to get the chariot, Clarisse was left with Deimos. Except, no, it wasn’t Deimos. It was her father. It was Ares. “You failed me again!” He yelled, his fist raised. It was her nightmare, come to life. Her breathe caught in her throat and she fumbled for words. “I told you what would happen!” He attempted to hit her, leaning forward, his hand coming down as she was sprawled out on the ground. She moved back, tears forming in her eyes, as she scrambled away, her legs tripping over her hands. “No! Please!” She yelled. Her throat was clogged with sobs and she felt like she could hardly breathe. Eventually, Percy had gotten her attention. He told her to stand up to her father. She did. “You’re not Ares. You’re not even a good fighter,” Clarisse told Deimos. She stabbed him in the shoulder. Finally, she could breathe. Deimos left. Now, though, she had to actually face her father and bring him the chariot. Her fight wasn’t over yet. She didn’t think it ever would be. She was thirteen and three fourths, at the time.

_I won't let you get me down, I'll keep gettin' up when I hit the ground_

She couldn’t heal him. _She couldn’t heal him._ Chris was relying on her, she knew it. She couldn’t let him down. Clarisse was the one who found him, the one who had seen him at his worst so far. He only talked to her. Only trusted her. Why wasn’t it working? He called her Mary and didn’t remember anything. He shouted things about how dark it was even though there was light and yelled things about a thousand skulls. He hugged himself and sobbed, his eyes desperate and wild. Chris had been destroyed in the maze. Clarisse tried to get him to drink nectar, to stop crying and just tell her what happened so she could help. It was heartbreaking to watch, though she couldn’t imagine how heartbreaking it was for Chris. Clarisse didn’t even know if he knew anything was wrong with him. Maybe he felt like he was still in the labyrinth. Sometimes she did, too. Nightmares plagued her some nights, and other days she felt like she never left. Maybe all her friends were an illusion of the maze, maybe every breath she took was a hallucination. Clarisse looked at Chris sadly. Dionysus wasn’t returning fast enough. This happened when she was fourteen and a half. Gods, she could only pray he would heal. She was confident, but her confidence was fading.

  _I'll find my way, find my way home, oh, oh, oh, I'll find my way, find my way home, oh, oh, oh_

_I'll find my way, find my way home, oh, oh, oh, I'll find my way, find my way home, oh, oh, oh_

Gods, she was tired. Clarisse hadn’t slept in around thirty hours. First, she was struck by night horrors. It was Chris screaming the name Mary, and the Labyrinth closing in around her. It was her father’s face so close to her own, yelling at her and belittling her every move. It was Silena Beauregard with an absent face, skin pale, and her breathe nonexistent. They were some of the worse nightmares she had had to date, her blood running in her ears and images engraved into her mind. Everytime she closed her eyes all she could see was either Chris in tears, her father’s angry face, or the corpse of a specific daughter of Aphrodite. Once Clarisse decided that there was no way she’d be actually sleeping any time soon, she made her way to the Big House. Dionysus would’ve been returning soon. Chris would be healed soon. She stayed watching the son of Hermes, waiting for the other god’s arrival. That’s where she was now actually. She’d been waiting with Chris for almost 26 hours now. Both Annabeth and Silena had come up to her earlier in the day offering to watch over him if she needed sleep. She needed sleep, sure, but she was scared that if she closed her eyes she’d see Silena’s dead body once again. She refused the both of them. Her eyes drooped, only slightly, and she opened so quickly that she got a short sudden pain in her forehead. Clarisse would not be falling asleep anytime soon. Dionysus would come back eventually, she was sure of it. Christ would be healed. He would go back to his previous joking manner. She was fifteen.  

_Oh yeah, I'm haunted by the distant past_

Something bad was going to happen soon. Clarisse knew it. Her nightmares had become sufficiently worse and her skin felt on fire from nervousness most times. Gods, she could only wonder what would happen. She was still fifteen, but time seemed to be slowing down.

_Called to the skies but she was overcast_

It was cloudy when Beckendorf had sacrificed his life on a boat. The boat exploded. So did he. When Silena had heard the news, her heart was more than broken. It was destroyed. Ripped. _Shredded._ When Clarisse had heard the news, her heart was all those things and maybe more. Did her love for Silena equate to Silena’s love for Beckendorf? She didn’t know. She thought it was more. Her best friend was in so much pain. Clarisse was in so much pain. She straightened her shoulders, though, and hugged her friend, offering hot chocolate. Hot chocolate always made things better, but for once she was wrong. Silena remained sad and Clarisse’s heart was in troubling distress. It hurt _so much_ to see the only girl who was never afraid of her, always remaining by her side, in so much agony. Every time Silena cried, she suffered. Every time she looked at her sadly, something beyond sadness in her eyes, Clarisse was tormented. Silena would look at her, hug her, sob into her chest. It didn’t matter if they were alone, it didn’t matter to either of them. Her heart was destroyed. Ripped. _Shredded._ She was still fifteen, though at that point she felt much older. Her skin was itchy with anticipation. She felt like that wasn’t the worst of it. She was right, of course.  

  
_But I won't never give up, no, never give up, no, no_

She stood up, her eyes on Silena’s. She was getting better, she supposed, but hardly. It had only been a day since his death. They were in the Ares cabin, where they had both been fairly often. Clarisse’s siblings didn’t bother them, they may have been awful, but not awful enough to joke about a death that had occurred in recent days. “C’mon,” She told the daughter of Aphrodite. “You need to get out, I think. Get some more hot chocolate in you, y’know?” Silena weakly laughed at that. Everything she did seemed to be weak. Her energy was gone, as was her boyfriend. Silena held at her hand and Clarisse took it, pulling her up. With her arm around one of the only friends she had, the two of them walked out of the Ares cabin. The daughter of Aphrodite looked up at her, her eyes not dropping for once. “Thank you.” It was hardly a whisper. It meant the world to Clarisse. She didn’t know what the thank you was for, whether it was for offering hot chocolate or staying by her during this time, but it was very much needed. At least Clarisse knew that what she was doing wasn’t in vain. _I would’ve done it anyways,_ she thinks. Even if Silena didn’t want it, Clarisse would give up the universe for her. Her arms, her legs, the grass, the stars, the sun. _Everything._ She deserved it. Clarisse felt a tiny spark of happiness. It did not last long at all. She didn’t age, but gods did it feel like she grew twenty years. The worst of it would be next. She could feel it coming beneath the surface of her smile at Silena.

_No, I won't never give up, no, never give up, no, no_

She was about to give up. Gods, did she just want to lay down and stare into the sky until her breath stopped and her blood ran cold. _Silena was dead._ It was such a short sentence, and yet it was the most horrific thing Clarisse had ever heard in her life. And the way she died― _the way she died_ —was completely and utterly monstrous and practically unspeakable. She had stolen her best friend’s armor, pretending to be her, and fought a drakon. She did not win the fight. And _of course_ there was the factor that it turned out that Silena Beauregard, a supposedly innocent Aphrodite child, was the spy. Really, Clarisse was conflicted. She felt both sad and ditched. Miserable and betrayed. Silena not only betrayed her, but the entire camp, but then she continued to sacrifice her life in her last efforts to save her friends. Was she a traitor or a hero? Clarisse preferred the last one. She peered down to Silena’s eyes, her eyes that were worlds away. Her head was in Clarisse’s lap. The daughter of Ares would destroy Kronos, destroy everybody that supported him. How _dare_ Luke manipulate her best friend. How _dare_ he. Gods, when she got her hands around his neck, he would gone in seconds. He was the reason Silena was dead. Clarisse bent down, pressing her lips lightly to Silena’s forehead. Oh, did she hope she made it to Elysium. Silena deserved it. She breathed deeply and carefully placed Silena’s head to the floor. Clarisse stood up. It was time to defeat an army, get revenge for what that damned drakon did to the best thing that ever happened to her. ‘How much did she love Silena Beauregard?’ one may ask. Clarisse wouldn’t even fucking hesitant. “Beyond words.” She would say. “More than anything letters or expressions could describe.” She was fifteen, of course, but gods, she felt like she was beyond aging at that point. She felt so old, so overcome with the weight of everything. Clarisse La Rue took a deep breathe. She would not let her friend die in vain. She would not give up.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> WOW okay lit @ my secret santa (p sure ur name is charlie) i hope you enjoyed and that it was up to ur expectations?? sorry its so incredibly late i procrastinate a lot but technically it's not actually late so im proud lov u hope u liked my fic also btw sorry it's not the whole song lol i ran out of ideas


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